


in the arms of the woman he loves

by janie_tangerine



Series: the jaimebrienne spite countdown to season eight [5]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (HOPEFULLY IT HAS FEELINGS), F/M, Idiots in Love, Past Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pool Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post-Season/Series 07, Reunions, Season/Series 08 Speculation, Spitefic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, past abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 12:57:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18165497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: In which there's a conversation in Winterfell's hot springs after Jaime comes North.





	in the arms of the woman he loves

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaand welcome to part five of the spite countdown!!!
> 
> Today's anon brings up an evergreen point:
> 
> Now, I personally thing this *dying* in the arms of the woman he loves is a red herring and no one's actually dying, but for the purpose of this fic I would like to point out that the French have an _entirely_ different way of seeing that concept:
> 
> I said what I said *cough*. Have fun and see you tomorrow with more crack if my plans go the right way. ;)
> 
> Also: this round the title is OBVIOUSLY what it is, I own zilch except for the spite and I'll saunter back downwards now. Have some porn! ;)

This time, it’s not _him_ intruding on her while bathing.

Jaime thinks it’s somehow ironic when the door leading to Winterfell’s hot springs opens and Brienne walks in, wrapped in her fur cloak and looking like she’s not too sure of her welcome.

He leans against the stone of the pool, looking up at her. He tries to remember what he said in Harrenhal to try and rile her up.

It somehow doesn’t come to him, and anyway, he’s entirely too tired to try and do it, not when it’s the first bath he’s taken in weeks and when he feels so tired that he could sleep for two moons.

If only any of them could afford it.

“My lady,” he says. “I see that we’re in a similar happenstance as when we had that delightful conversation in Harrenhal, aren’t we?”

“We might be,” she agrees, moving closer to the opposite edge to where he’s lying. “And I wanted to talk to you without others around, but the chances were not… many. And —”

“What, some people are already whispering behind your back because you vouched for me when Daenerys Targaryen asked why she shouldn’t feed me to her dragon already?”

“Maybe,” Brienne agrees, “but I don’t care for that. I just thought that it would be best to do it where no one else could hear. You didn’t seem to relish in the prospect of explaining the queen why exactly you’re here, did you?”

“I don’t relish in the prospect of explaining _Aerys’s daughter_ anything,” he admits, figuring he should have it out of the way. “By the way, I should thank you for that endorsement. I have a feeling without it they would have been entirely less swayed towards my side.”

Tyrion also did try to stand up for him, even if his opinion was _not_ deal breaking on account of Daenerys suspecting he only said it to save his neck. And they only agreed fully when _Bran Stark_ out of everyone said that it was his destiny to be _here_ and that he held no ill will against Jaime because if he _hadn’t_ pushed him out of that bloody window he couldn’t have fulfilled _his_ own destiny or played his own part.

Jaime pledged his sword to _him_ anyway. After all, Snow doesn’t need it, _Sansa_ has Brienne’s and Arya sure as the seven hells doesn’t. It was accepted. They gave him permission to go around the castle even if he understood that people would keep an eye on him, they told him to show up for their much needed war council tomorrow that can now be run knowing the full stakes or most of them, and he figured he would go and take a damned bath because his entire body was hurting after days of riding with little rest or respite, never mind that he was filthy.

“You’re welcome,” she said, “but I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

Part of him rejoices silently at hearing _that_.

Another, though —

“Brienne,” he says, realizing that he sounds _tired_ but — what can he do if he _is_? —, “I’m afraid that at this point we might just rehash our previous experience in Harrenhal without you standing there like a damned log and me having to get aches in my neck to look at you.” He tries to wink at her after.

He doesn’t know how much it works, but she seems to think about it for one moment before she nods and starts disrobing without saying a word.

He’s startled — he hadn’t exactly imagined her to not protest such a suggestion, but then again… the Brienne he had known in the beginning of their acquaintance certainly wouldn’t have told him to _fuck loyalty_ , would she?

She wasn’t wearing armor under the cloak, so she’s quick to take off her breeches and shirt and boots. She places everything near the edge of the pool and at _that_ he notices that her chest is more scarred than he remembers — there’s some healed wounds on her hips, and faded bruises over her back and legs, and some fresh ones she most likely gained during training.

_Time has passed, hasn’t it_ , he thinks wearily as she cautiously lowers herself inside the pool. She _does_ try to make sure he doesn’t get a good look at her naked chest before she submerges her entire body in the warm water until only her neck and shoulders are out of it.

“Is your neck faring any better now?” She asks, sounding almost amused.

“Much, thank you,” he deadpans. He can look at her in the eyes now, at least. “So, what was it _you_ wanted to discuss? I’ll admit there was — plenty _I_ might have wanted to, as well.” He wishes he could bother to tease her the way he used to, _before_ , but somehow he’s too tired for it.

“I just wanted to say that I knew you would come through.” She looks at him straight in the eyes and for a moment he feels his heart skip a beat, and maybe he hadn’t expected _that_ but not so deep down he had hoped to hear it.

“You — you knew?”

“Ser Jaime, you haven’t given _me_ any reason to think you might not for a very long time,” she says. “Maybe others wouldn’t agree. But I saw how you looked in the pit when you saw that wight’s hand. It was obviously you knew what was at stake.”

“I did,” he admits, sighing. “But it wasn’t enough, I guess.” His voice turns bitter at that, even if he hadn’t exactly planned on it, and he can see that she notices from the way her eyes squint just before he looks down at his right wrist, barely submerged under the water.

“Is this about why you’re here with what forces you took from _Riverrun_ and not with your full army?”

“That’s why _Edmure Tully_ is here with what forces he had in Riverrun and I’m here with a handful of soldiers, but thank you for putting it in a way that would make my role in it sound more dignified,” he says, and damn, he had wanted to lighten up the situation, not to sound even _more_ bitter.

“Do you know no one —”

“Brienne, I might have behaved in a rather stupid way recently, and maybe even more than that, but I’m not such an idiot. I _know_ they expected an army and not _me_ , pretty much.”

She doesn’t try to push _that_ angle. “I wasn’t talking about an army, though,” she presses. “I was talking about _you_.”

He shrugs minutely, finding it in himself to look up at her again. She looks mildly worried. _Why_ —

“Ser,” she says a moment later, her hands disappearing under the water. “I would not presume for you to share anything you don’t wish to.”

“Even if we made a habit of oversharing while bathing together?”

Her cheeks turn red as she shrugs, not disagreeing. “Maybe. But you look troubled, and I know it’s not just because of _how_ you arrived here in the first place. And since _I_ was the one telling you to, shall we say, _go against your family_ , and your loyalties, and here you are, I feel like it would say nothing good about me if I wasn’t willing to hear you out, if you wish to discuss it.” It comes out of her in bits and pieces, as if it’s costing her a lot to say it and as if this is not the usual situation she finds herself in.

And yet.

And yet he can see what does it mean that she _asked_ him, and on one side he _could_ tell Tyrion, but he doesn’t know if he’d want to hear it or if he could answer anything that was not _well, haven’t I told you so for years_ , and she offered, and if she hasn’t judged him worthless and honorless until _now_ —

“I am troubled,” he admits, not bothering to hide the weariness in his voice. “I’ve been since Cersei blew up Baelor’s sept, but — on the way here, I realized… things, maybe.”

“Such as?” She prompts him when he doesn’t go on. He shrugs.

“Just after I came back, I — I couldn’t look at her and recognize the person I _thought_ I — you know that.” She nods. He figures he should go on. “She seemed to care for naught but keeping the throne even if her plans would make sure she would lose it sooner rather than later, she wouldn’t listen to me if I tried to counsel her somehow, she sounded _cold_ even when discussing our — Tommen’s death.” He takes a breath. “I was — honestly questioning everything I had done up to that point. I think she understood. No, I _know_ she did.”

She says nothing, standing up slightly straighter.

“I — might have started to doubt a few things at that point.” He should look at her as he speaks. He doesn’t know if he can. “Then she — stopped denying what we were. To others, I mean.”

“As in… not hiding it anymore?”

“No. She let the maids see, she — didn’t try to hide it anymore. It was — the one thing I wanted and she knew it, I think. I suppose a stronger man would have held on and kept on doubting, but I didn’t. I didn’t, and when she told me she was with child and that it was mine and she would tell that it was instead of hiding it, too… for a moment it felt _right_ , and then she added that I shouldn’t betray her again, or _else._ She didn’t have to say it, but — it was clear. I should have thought about it. And I _still_ stayed because I didn’t know how _not_ to.”

Brienne gives him another nod. She’s _not_ leaving, so he supposes he hasn’t said anything that will change her mind about him yet.

Yet.

“Then _you_ showed up at the dragon pit,” he says. “And told me to _fuck loyalty_ and made me wonder for a hell of a long time how could _you_ say such a thing, but — I did try to talk to her. More or less. And she did talk to Tyrion and when she agreed — I thought she meant it. I _really_ thought she understood that we were risking our lives here. And honestly, it was the only time I actually _did_ want to lead that army somewhere.”

“And then?”

He looks up at her. He owes her that much. “When she saw me organizing the army she stopped it and said that _of course_ we weren’t helping you, pretty much implied that I was a right complete dimwit if I ever thought it was an option, she said that if we let you fight it out our child would rule Westeros when it was pretty clear that even if it was ours, and if she was pregnant, there wouldn’t be any land left to rule anymore. I said I would go regardless and that I made a promise, that — _thing_ that used to be Gregor Clegane was _there_ , long story short… she accuses me of conspiring against her, I said that if she didn’t want me to leave she should give the order and the only reason she _didn’t_ was that she didn’t believe I was _actually_ going to do leave.”

Brienne gives him a small nod, hearing that he’s not done.

“Which was why I tried to make it for Riverrun as fast as I could.”

“Did she send people after you?”

“Obviously. She had to spare them for me, not to _fight for the living_.”

“So what it is that you realized? If that was what you wanted to discuss, of course.”

He doesn’t know if he wants to say it out loud.

But he should. He should, if he wants to come clean with her and if he wants to come clean with himself. Maybe there’s a reason why he did this in a pool, _again_.

“People who love each other _wouldn’t_ do such a thing,” he says. “I mean, if she really did, she — she wouldn’t have threatened to kill me, would she.”

Brienne seems to want to say something, but then she says nothing and instead takes a couple steps farther, obviously moving where the pool is deeper, until she’s sitting next to him. Not touching, but just enough to if they should want it.

“So I had to start thinking if she ever really — I mean, who says to someone they _love_ that they will murder them for disagreeing with their admittedly suicidal notions? I wouldn’t have said it to _her_. And at the same time she only _did_ give me what I wanted the moment I was really thinking of — I don’t know what, but not going along with her plans was about it.”

“For one,” Brienne says, “I am most glad she did _not_ , but — do you want the honest outside opinion, for what _mine_ is worth, or are you figuring it out for yourself?”

If only he knew. “I think it’s both,” he admits. “It’s not that I don’t have figured it out. I think I have, some. But I don’t know if I can even trust my own opinion and for that matter — I might have understood something else that I never let myself until I left.”

She nods, her eyes going to her knees before she looks back at him. Has she grown out her hair just slightly? He can’t be sure.

“If you ask _me_ , if a person loves someone else the way I always assumed it would feel like… they don’t accuse that someone of being a _right complete dimwit_ for either trusting their word or wanting to do the right thing. I — when Renly was alive, the thought that he might be one for doing things that were… in hindsight, not exactly smart thinking, wouldn’t even pass my mind. If the next thing they do is trying to kill them or threatening them… I wouldn’t want to presume to know better than you, but it doesn’t sound like the kind of love I would want for myself, in the world where someone such as myself finds any.”

His heart feels a pang at hearing that she _still_ thinks that it’s not something that happens to her when —

_When_ —

“I don’t know,” Jaime says, “there are rumors you have a wildling admirer around the castle, or so your squire informed me.”

She groans. “Well, it’s not mutual and I like to think I wouldn’t settle with someone I don’t want, even if the gods know — never mind. Even if I should find myself in an arranged situation with someone I didn’t _love_ , I still don’t think it would be fair or honorable of me to treat them like _that_.”

On one side, he kind of feels relieved because if _someone else_ thinks that it wasn’t fair behavior, at least he doesn’t have to listen to the part of him whispering that he should have never left her or disappointed her so — not that it’s the strongest part of him, right now.

“Was that was _you_ assumed, too?”

He shrugs. “I just,” he admits, “I don’t even know _what_ of it was real or not. Did she only give me what I wanted so I’d stay? Is she even pregnant at all? And is it _mine_ , if she is?”

“Would _that_ have made you stay?”

“Given the rest? If I knew it was mine and that she was telling the truth I might have considered, because — I guess she realized that I _did_ want — never mind. I have more reasons to doubt it than not.”

“… She realized that you _did_ want to father your children?” She asks, her voice barely audible.

“I have a feeling I haven’t hidden it too well,” he sighs, finally admitting it out loud.

She hasn’t moved her eyes from his, and he can see her teeth biting down on her lip for a moment. Biting down _hard_.

“What it is that you aren’t saying?” He asks.

“I don’t think it’s my place to share such a thing.”

“I don’t think it’s even remotely something you should be worrying about. I’m asking, if I went back to King’s Landing now she’d ask for my head and _ser Strong_ would certainly take it, you’re one of the four people who doesn’t outright hate me in this place and we’re most likely going to die fighting the undead. Also, we’re both naked in a bath, _again_ , you convinced me to follow my gut when you told me to _fuck loyalty_ and you’re wondering if it’s _your place_ to share your thoughts? Please,” he laughs bitterly, “I think we’re a bit past this one matter, now.”

She seems to be about to object. Then bites down on her lip again, stops, puts a hand on his arm very tentatively and he goes still at once.

She’s gentle, he notices.

_The same way she was in that other bath_ —

“I’m saying — if you ask _me_ , she is showing very poor judgment, and not only when it comes to lending us her army.”

“… Really. When it comes to what else, then?” He asks, his voice coming out way less surer than he’d like.

He doesn’t want to hope that he understood right. He doesn’t want to hope that she means, when it concerned _him_ , because if she did — if she _did_ —

“The last time we were in such a situation,” she says, “you shared something with me that you never had before.”

“Yes. And?”

She breathes in. “If I tell you, I want your word that it won’t… get out of this room and that you won’t think ill of me for it, and that you will spare me any amusement it might cause you to hear it.”

“You have it,” he says, even if he’s not sure of why would she ask for such a thing. “Why, are you sharing your best-kept secret that’s been eating at you for years?”

“And what if I was about to?”

Suddenly, he doesn’t feel like making fun of the situation anymore. “Very well,” he says. “I won’t share. Do tell.”

“Your sister has extremely poor judgment in assessing how lucky she might have been and when it comes to assessing your character.”

For a moment, he can’t believe she just said _that_.

“Wait, _what_ —”

“Any woman should be lucky of having with her someone who _wants_ to father her children and doesn’t care for her just for her dowry, especially if it’s… mutual. And _she_ especially really doesn’t know you as much as she thinks she does if she thinks you’re _anywhere_ near a right complete dimwit, even if you can be impossible and you _are_ half of the time. But you’re also the kind of person who will trust me to find Sansa Stark with her father’s sword, jump into bear pits for someone you barely even know, who’ll leave everything to fight for the living, who risked his reputation and honor to save half a million people and who only ever asked of her to not have scraps of time anymore, or did I guess wrong from what you said?”

“No, but —”

“If she couldn’t see you for _yourself_ but just for what was useful to her, then she has incredibly poor judgment.”

She moves her stare down at that, her hand going to her wrist, pretending to scrub away dead skin, and — are her cheeks flushing?

And if she can’t look at him now… did she just imply that Cersei should _consider herself lucky to be with him out of everyone but she didn’t realize it_?

And wait, what did she say before…?

_It doesn’t sound like the kind of love I would want for myself, in the world where someone such as myself finds any_?

Oh, for —

“I think you are omitting maybe a small piece of information, are you?” He asks, hoping it comes out sympathetic and not as if he’s making fun of her. It’s the last thing on his mind right now, but he has resigned himself to never quite managing to say the right thing when he’s around her.

“If I am,” she says, “it’s because I don’t wish for the two of us to spend what might be the next few weeks before we inevitably die in an extremely awkward situation, and since it seems like you guessed already, I would appreciate it if you could pretend it never happened. Something you gave your word you would do.”

“I gave my word that I wouldn’t tell anyone and I wouldn’t amuse myself at your expense,” he says, “but I’m in no way _amused_. I’m entirely serious. And I think that if I told you what it is that I figured out on the way here, you won’t think I should forget it.”

“And what it is that you figured out on your way here, ser?” She doesn’t sound too convinced.

He can imagine why. He turns to his side, reaches out with his left, grasps her elbow gently. “I’ve done unspeakable things to — to preserve what I had with her. I’m not sure it was worth it and maybe I _was_ a fool because I couldn’t see that it wasn’t… what my heart had wanted. For a long time.”

“A long time?”

“I don’t jump into bear pits without weapons for just about anyone,” he says, and then her eyes meet his again — and they’re so wide and blue he could _drown_ in them —, “and maybe I didn’t want to admit it to myself because I didn’t think I _could_ want to be with anyone but Cersei because that was how it _always_ was and I never even considered otherwise.”

“Ser, don’t —”

“Strange how you _always_ sounded like the picture of loyalty and told me to _fuck it_ , isn’t it?”

He holds her stare, figuring that as bad as that might have come out she _has_ to see that he means it.

Her mouth falls open.

“You haven’t just said that —”

“I said _exactly_ what you think I just did,” he says, moving slightly closer. “And if I understood what you implied before… then if we are to die soon, I honestly would rather act on it than die without having told you, and I don’t think _awkward_ situations are what I’m imagining in between us right now.”

Brienne looks at him for a long, long time. The water is still hot, thankfully, and she’s so close that he could touch _more_ , if only he had the guts to, but it’s up to her now and he doesn’t want to ruin whatever it is that just happened —

The last thing he expects is for a strangled noise to come from the back of her throat before she puts a hand on the back of his head and kisses him.

The _motion_ is fast and harsh, as if she had been holding back from doing it, but —

But then she doesn’t _take_ that kiss or anything of the kind. Her mouth is tentative on his after the first touch, but when he parts his lips in encouragement she wastes no time kissing him properly, and it’s obvious she has little experience with it if at all, but she’s slow and thorough and her tongue touches his after running over his lips once, twice, and her hand is so gentle at the back of his head that he can barely feel it, and as he raises up his hand and cups her cheek with his left palm she kisses him harder, like someone who had never thought she’d get to do _this_ but now that she has the chance she sure as the seven hells will take it, and _that_ about undoes him — he moans into her mouth, wanting more, and she drags him closer until they’re flush against each other and he’s taking deep breaths against her mouth when they have to part for proper air.

When he looks into her eyes, she seems incredulous, but in the good way.

“No,” he says, “definitely nothing awkward going on here.”

“You — you _wanted_ this — since _when_?”

“I can’t say,” he says, “but when I told you that sword I gave you would always be yours, maybe I was thinking about something else instead,” he admits, his heart beating fasterfaster _faster_ , he hadn’t meant to blurt _that_ out but seeing her after so long and then seeing her leave had maybe left him with a deep sense of _wrongness_ , and when he came back to King’s Landing and saw the sept gone in flames, _that_ was when he realizes exactly how _wrong_ things were and how Cersei had more in common with Aerys than not —

But then it only took very little for him to ignore it.

Only _everything he ever asked of her_ , and it wasn’t much, admittedly.

_Hells_ , he thinks, _am I really that weak_?

“Is something amiss?” She asks, and oh, her hand is _right_ over his heart, and she can feel it, can’t she —

“No,” he says, “quite the contrary. I just…” His left hand cups her hip, feeling how warm her skin is, how _firm_ it is underneath it rather than soft. It feels right. “I could have done this before. Much before. And I didn’t let myself even _see_ it until now, and I _should_ have —”

“I didn’t admit it to myself for a long time either and I thought it was hopeless,” she interrupts him. “I think wondering about how much sooner we could have done this won’t help now.”

“It won’t,” he admits. “It won’t, but — you know that I won’t be able to keep part of that word now, do you?”

“What — what do you mean?”

He shakes his head, kissing her again, and he groans into her mouth when she grabs his waist and drags him up, his legs around hers, her arms around his back, water splashing behind them outside the rim of the pool. This time it’s frantic, and he wishes he could avoid being in a hurry when he doesn’t have to and he _knows_ no one will have their heads if they walk in on them, but it’s ingrained inside him and not even with the new open doors policy in King’s Landing he could shake it off him —

“I mean,” he says when he breaks apart for breath again, “that I can’t let it stay in this room. I can’t walk out of here pretending it never happened. I can’t do it _again_. I can’t hide it. I can’t do this if we don’t tell anyone. Not after —”

She kisses him again, and _again_ , not letting him finish, and then —

“When I asked you _that_ ,” she says, “I hadn’t thought you could — never mind. I release you from _that_ one vow then.” She half-smiles at that, and it lights up those large, pretty blue eyes of hers, and then her hands are in his hair, and — “I don’t see why I would want to hide it, anyway.”

“No?” He asks, leaning down again, his hand cupping her breast — it’s stiff against his fingers, as small as it is, and she moans slightly as he experimentally squeezes that firm flesh. _All_ of her is firm, he can’t help noticing. All but her eyes —

“Why would I want to hide it, if the man I’ve loved for — a frankly embarrassing amount of time actually _didn’t_ want to keep it hidden, himself?”

The moment she says it, she looks horrified for a moment, as if she’s maybe said too much, but the moment it leaves her mouth he leans back down and kisses that look off her face — gods, he hasn’t even wanted to presume she could feel more than… he doesn’t want to say _friendship_ because that’s already beyond whatever _this_ thing between them is, but that she would want him back when he hadn’t even dared presuming anything of the sort and would have been happy for a chance to die fighting by her side, and now that she’s said it —

“Then I would be overjoyed,” he says when they part again, “if the woman _I_ loved back would not presume she _can’t tell me that_.”

Then _that_ is when he realizes that _maybe_ this has gone far enough — they’re naked, he can feel how taut and stiff her breasts are against his chest, and he’s hard enough that he’d probably come in and embarrassingly short time if she just reached down and touched his cock, and it’s not how they should —

“Though maybe we should take it to your bed,” he says, leaning down, his nose brushing against hers. “This doesn’t seem ideal —”

“Jaime, if you ask _my_ honest opinion, my bed is too far, we might have waited long enough and I don’t see a more fit place than — here, actually,” she counters, her voice suddenly lowering, and —

Oh.

In a _pool_.

Of course she thinks it’s the most fitting place where they could do _this_ the first time —

“Why,” he asks, “because you’ve been wanting to since _then_?”

“I don’t know if _I_ knew,” she admits, “but I was not blind.” Her cheeks turn a darker shade of pink as she says it, and he has to grin at that, and then her hands are on his face again, and she has that look she _always_ gets when she’s about to tell him something that will make his knees buckle, he _knows_ that — “And I never thought it was… something that _might_ happen.”

“So what,” he goes on, relishing in the fact that he _can_ actually waste time teasing her, and patience if he _wants_ her so much he could burst with it, “now that it _has_ will you show me what it is that you’ve been thinking about doing in such a situation?”

“Gods, I missed it,” she says, “as much as I thought I never could. I mean, your nagging.”

“You _missed_ it?”

“I’m not repeating it.” She doesn’t sound as if she _means_ that, though, but then she shakes her head as she draws him slightly closer. “I missed _you_ , though,” she admits, her voice dropping lower.

“Not going anywhere,” he whispers against her mouth. “Hopefully _that_ is mutual, too.”

“Oh, I’ll show you what’s _mutual_ here,” she says, and then she’s kissing him again, and she’s standing up, and he goes along with it, figuring that she _won’t_ let him slip over the tub’s stone if he loses his balance, but it’s so that she can sit on the edge of the tub, bringing him with, her legs parting, and then she grabs his left hand and puts it in between them even if she’s flushing dark scarlet, and the moment his fingertips touch her cunt he notices that she’s _wet_ , and not with just the bath’s warm water.

Given that his dick is pressing against her thigh and that he’s so hard it’s _painful_ if he lets himself think about it

 

( _but he hasn’t until now, he has practice ignoring that, doesn’t he_ )

 

he has a feeling that’s indeed _very much mutual_ , and for a moment he thinks that they really should wait and do this on a bed because she deserves better than losing her maidenhead to _him_ on the stone ground, but when he looks at her eyes again all protests die there — she doesn’t look like she wants to _wait_ , and maybe they _did_ wait too much, after all, and so he leans down and kisses her again as she throws one of her legs behind his back, his left hand still on her cunt as he tries to pleasure her even if the angle is not ideal, but it’s apparently enough even if his fingers aren’t as skilled as his right hand’s would have been, because she’s moaning inside his mouth and her hand is grasping at his hair pushing him _down_ —

He slips two fingers inside her as he gains better access, and the leg she has around his back presses _down_ , as if she wants more as she’s writhing underneath him and her mouth crashes against his again and again, and he can’t hang on that much longer.

“Fuck,” he says, “I need — I _need_ —”

“ _Yes_ ,” she groans back, her other leg crossing on his back, too, and then he’s slipped inside her and her thighs are around his hips pushing him downwards as if she wants him to sink in her as much as _he_ does, and _oh_ , she’s wet and tight and warm all over, and when she lets out a little moan the moment he moves, he knows he’s _not_ going to forget it, nor any other noise she’s making because of _him_ —

He moves back and pushes again when her legs draw him closer, and _closer_ , and she shivers in pleasure when his hand moves down to her right breast and caresses it just as he keeps on thrusting, and he’s _close_ and hells, there’s nothing he wants more than coming inside her right now, but —

“I’m close,” he wheezes, her hands running through his hair all over again and isn’t he glad he hasn’t cut it the moment they gave him a room, “maybe —”

She understands a moment later, her grip lessening, their pace slowing down, looking up at him in understanding, and —

“Maybe _now_ is not the right time,” she whispers, her voice hoarse, “if we have to fight, but — I’d be glad to, after we live.”

For a moment, he only hears the first thing she said, but then the rest crashes over him anew, and —

“Wait, did you just say —”

“I can’t risk it now,” she says, sounding… _regretful_?, her legs still encircling his back even if not _tight_ , “not when we don’t know what’s going to happen, and the last thing I want is being with child and losing it and I think it’s the last thing you might want, too, but if we win this war and we both survive… do you think I’d say no?”

He could ask her if she means it, he could tell her that he didn’t really think she _did_ want children in the first place, but now as her hand goes to his face, still so gently, but as he stares down at her half-smile and flushed cheeks, so different from how put-together she is usually

( _because she’s rarely vulnerable around most people, is she_ )

he can only lean down and crush his mouth against hers again before he pulls out, and then —

Then they’re back in the water, her hand around his hard-on, the other one around his back, and now _he_ is moaning inside her mouth, again and again —

“You — you wouldn’t?” He manages, in between kisses, feeling stretched out and burning all over and he can’t remember the last time it felt this all-consuming and so wholly _right_ and gods, he’s _so_ close —

“Do you think,” she groans, “ _anyone_ ever thought they would want it with _me_?”

It sounded almost like it pained her to say it, and for a moment he wants to press, but he can imagine and right now his blood is boiling and hers is, too, and he can’t _ask_ , not when he can barely think and the prospect of living through this entire mess of a hopefully _last_ war he has to fight and then going somewhere with _her_ , wherever she wants, and bedding her properly every damned time they want without having to fight for it at every corner looks so beyond sweet right now that he thinks he could lose that hand all over again if it means they _get_ it —

“I want _everything_ with you,” he says instead, and the noise she makes at that is something he wants to _die_ remembering, damn it, and then she’s saying _me too, me too_ against his lips as her hand strokes his dick faster and faster and _faster_ and then he throws his right arm around her neck, slamming his mouth against hers as he comes against her fingers, and it’s so strong that for a moment he blanks out as he shudders all over and spills with her fingers still jerking him off, and she’s warmer than the water around them except that then it means both are scalding hot, and hadn’t he craved it when coming here meant going towards the worst cold he’s ever felt, when he’s been feeling it in his bones for longer than he’d have liked to admit, doesn’t he want to _drown_ in it —

He opens his eyes a moment later, or so it seems, but — they’re sitting on the steps leading down inside the tub, he’s in between her legs and she has her arms around his waist, and wait, _did he_ —

“Don’t tell me I passed out,” he groans.

“You might have,” she smiles back, but she does look _very_ satisfied of this development.

“Wait, are you _laughing_? What have I done to you now?”

“I don’t know,” she says, “if the first time I actually — do this with someone, I guess, they _pass out_ for good reasons then I think I’m allowed some satisfaction, or am I not?”

“I won’t be the one disagreeing,” he says, feeling lighter than he has in months if not years, and hells but she _does_ have a lovely smile, when she lets herself do it —

“For that matter,” she says, “you’re saying that _I_ am laughing, but it’s not as if I’ve ever seen _you_ smile like that until now.”

He thinks about it.

She’s probably right. Has he ever done it openly in front of her? They have exchanged a lot of stares, haven’t they, but he doesn’t think he ever… smiled at her like he’s doing right now.

“I had no reason to,” he replies, “but I think I have now. Especially if it turns out you’re so good at _this_ , you make men feel like they just about _died_ in all the best ways.”

Her arms curl around him tighter.

“Well, let’s hope that it’s the only way either of us do,” she says, quietly, and now she sounds dead serious — he looks down at her, his right wrist going to her collarbone. She doesn’t recoil from the touch.

“What you said before —” He starts, feeling his throat contort in a knot, but he _has_ to talk about it. “I mean, I know things look dire now —”

“Jaime Lannister,” she says, “if we both survive this war along with the rest of Westeros, I suppose, I — nothing would make me happier than sharing my life with you, if it wasn’t clear enough. I didn’t — I never thought I’d get to have _that_ , with anyone, but —”

“And what if I told you that I would be greatly disappointed if we _didn’t_ survive? I should probably mention that I _did_ see your fair island on the way to Dorne.”

“Did you?”

“It looked lovely, from the outside,” he says. “Maybe you could show me around?”

“I’d be glad,” she says, moving slightly closer. “You’d like it, I think. It’s not very grand, but —”

“I think I am done with _grand_.”

“Well, I can assure you my father would be uttermost glad to see me showing up with a marriage prospect.”

“And not with a few songs written about your honorable deeds?”

“Maybe both things,” she concedes, and suddenly he has a vision where she _does_ show him the place, and it’s as green as he remembers it, and the sky is as blue as her eyes and the sea reflects it, and there are children with her eyes that he doesn’t have to keep far away from and who could call him _father_ without dropping dead a moment later or feeling horrified that _he_ would be, and he wouldn’t have to hide anything, not with _her_ —

A moment later, her fingers are on his face again, and wait —

“Is there something wrong?”

Shit. He _cried_ in front of her?

“No,” he says, shaking his head, “no, everything is right if we don’t count that we need to survive this war, but it was — I thought about it.”

“What?”

“Going back to Tarth with you.”

“And —”

“And I think I would like that very much,” he says. “Even if I don’t like that you’re obviously still wanting unless I missed something before, and I don’t think I should leave you _wanting_ right now.”

Her cheeks flush red as she smiles slightly again.

“I won’t be the one stopping you,” she breathes as his left hand reaches her cunt again, feeling that she’s still wet and warm, and she clenches around his fingers as soon as he slips them inside —

“Good,” he says, “because we have to make up for lost time however it goes, if you ask _me_.”

Then he doesn’t speak anymore because he has to make sure she doesn’t leave this place _wanting_ , and from the way her arms clutch him as his fingers push inside her again and again and _again_ she won’t, and maybe he _does_ grin in satisfaction as she screams his name over and over.

Oh, he can’t _wait_ for when her entire island hears her — or _him_ , too.

And he’s going to do anything in his power to make sure it does get to happen. After all, he _did_ think once he wanted to die in the arms of the woman he loved, and if it’s _this_ kind of death, he’s entirely down with indulging in it as many times as they possibly can —

And when he does _for real_ , then he definitely still wishes _that_ is how it will go…

But just, not _right now_. Maybe in years. A _hell_ of a lot of years.

_Yes_ , he decides as Brienne’s arms clutch at him and she clenches again around his fingers and he can feel her peaking while her legs cross behind his back again and she asks for _more_ , that’s a plan he absolutely can get behind.

And he’ll do everything to make sure they actually get to have it.

 

End.


End file.
